


far from the truth.

by projectfreelancer



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer
Summary: if anyone were to ask, slade was the one who came to him.





	far from the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for a friend with just the prompt: daddy issues.

If anyone were to ask, Slade was the one who came to him. The one who offered, the one who made the first move, the one whose decision it was.

And it’d be far from the truth.

Because they wouldn’t be what they are now if it wasn’t Dick’s own choice. If Bruce hadn’t all but kicked him out that one night, piercing words, heated silence. If anyone else had answered. If Roy had just looked at his phone, or if Wally had answered, or if Jason —    
  
Not that Jason would probably even answer. Which Dick can understand.   
  
And because of that, Dick found himself outside of Slade’s apartment, banging on the door, having the door open up and a gun to his face. 

“Jesus, Slade,” Dick says, lowers the gun, lets his fingers rest against Slade’s as he does so. The metal feels cold where his fingers press against the gun rather than flesh. “You knew it was me.”

“I did.” Dick hates the way he talks, the way it can either strike anxiety inside him, or how it can instantly relax him. “Didn’t know what type of mood I’d find you in, is all.”

Dick walks into the apartment when Slade steps aside, only jumps a little with the sound of the door clicking shut. “So, little bird, what did Daddy Bats do this time?”   
  
Dick just scowls at the man, though he is paying no attention. He’s walking towards his cabinet, reaching up to grab a bottle of whiskey, pours some into two shot glasses. Hands one to Dick.   
  
“I told you to stop calling him  _ that. _ ”

“Mm,” Slade hums, eyes betraying nothing, takes a gulp of the alcohol. “Didn’t answer my question.”

“You know I don’t just come over here when we fight.”

Slade downs the rest of his glass, sets it against the counter. He walks closer to Dick, eyes not leaving his, hands grabbing around Dick’s own, the one holding his own glass. Slade moves their hands, the glass, up to Dick’s mouth, makes it so Dick has no other choice but to down the whiskey. When Dick swallows it all, Slade takes the glass from him, tosses it to the side, a loud shatter echoing in the silence. 

Dick jumps, just a little, tries to say something like  _ Jesus Slade! _ but the words die when Slade’s lips press against his own, tongue tracing his lips, where a drop of whiskey lingered. It’s quiet except the roar of the fireplace, until Slade brushes Dick up against a wall, gets his hand underneath Dick’s shirt. His lips move to Dick’s neck, whispers against his skin, “We both know that’s not true, baby.”

Dick hates that he shudders again, hates that there’s no way Slade didn’t feel it. That Slade knows exactly what to do to affect him the way he does. “I also told you to not call  _ me _ that.”

Slade laughs against his skin, bites a little. Pulls away to look Dick in the eyes. “I know exactly what you want. It’s okay, baby. You know I will do whatever you want, and I won’t take you for granted. Not like him.”   
  
“Stop talking about  _ him _ when we’re doing this then.”

  
Slade just laughs again, move sin for another kiss, moves his hands lower, swallows down the sound Dick makes. “Yeah, you’re right. You’ve got a better  _ daddy _ right now anyways.”


End file.
